


Come Play (With Me)

by orphan_account



Series: Drabbles [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:43:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His sides are sensitive, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Play (With Me)

“Peter, c’mon.”

Peter doesn’t answer and Stiles makes an impatient noise.

“Peter, everyone is gonna be here soon and I’d like to at least make an attempt to make it seem like we aren’t boning.”

Peter snorts. “They smell it on you.” He tells Stiles breezily.

Stiles pulls a face, pinched and irate. “Dude, really? Ick.”

Peter covers Stiles’ half-naked body with his own again, and mouths at his neck. His voice is a low rumble against the skin. “I like it.” Stiles ‘humphs’ but doesn’t object as Peter runs greedy fingers over the expanse of Stiles’ chest. “They know that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Stiles feels that tell tale stutter of his heartbeat—which means Peter heard it too—because, A) That’s never not going to be ‘big news’ to Stiles. And B) It’s also never going to cease being the best thing he’s ever heard. He curls his arms over Peter’s shoulders, pulling him close.

Stiles relaxes, finally, as he feels claws ever so gently drift over him, pricking at his nipples and tracing the curves of his wiry muscles. He’s melting into the bed under Peter’s ministrations until one hand slides to a high part of his side, against his ribs and just under his armpit.

Stiles would like to say his squeal was totally manly, but that would be a lie, and you just don’t bother lying (to  _anyone_ ) when you’re dating and surrounded by werewolves.

Peter starts, and sits up but leaves his hand resting on Stiles’ side. “Stiles?” He asks slowly. Stiles gasps for air—that was a pretty exhausting shriek—while trying to answer. A lightbulb goes off in Peter’s head, and he lights drags a claw over the same spot, gentle and teasing and too much but not enough sensation all at once.

Stiles’ back arches into Peter’s touch as laughter bubbles out of him in gasps and his limbs start to flail. “Peter! Stop!” But Peter senses the amusement, the lack of fear, the distinct sweet scent of  _fun_.

Peter grins and redoubles his efforts by dropping his free hand to the other side of Stiles’ chest, and continuing. Stiles turns breathless fast, and Peter finds himself laughing as well.

When it becomes too much, and Stiles is digging crescent shaped welts into Peter’s back, Peter falls forward again and holds Stiles against him. Stiles levels his breathing and grins against Peter’s cheek. “You’re so weird.”

“Something to share?”

Stiles squawks and tries to throw himself off the bed, and possibly out the window, with no success because he’s still trapped under Peter’s body. Peter, on the other hand, is calm. “Hello Derek.”

Derek just laughs, a quiet derisive snicker, and leaves.


End file.
